Claiming Serenity(66)

God how she wanted out of her body. She wanted to fly into the sky, forget who she was, what she would soon be. Layla wanted Donovan’s hands away from her body. Actually, she wanted them all over her but she knew that wasn’t possible, not now, probably not ever. Instead, she scrubbed her face as though inside her skin was a tingling itch that could never be abated.

“I know that. You don’t think I know that?” She fell back to what she knew; hating him, insulting him, deflecting her pain, her hurt so he could not wound her further. The anger, the shame, it all swirled inside her, collecting into a rage that sought one target alone. Him, that beautiful, insulting man in front of her. “But we can’t ignore it. We can’t play like it’s going to go away and for your information, you selfish asshole, men aren’t the poor victims when they knock up some girl. They get off easy. You’ll get off easy. You think I want to bring your kid into this world… proof that I actually had sex with you?”

“You weren’t complaining when your legs were straight in the air.”

“Yeah?” she screamed, pushing him back, slapping against his chest when he tried to calm her. “Well I will be now and for the rest of my freaking life thanks to you and your super sperm!”

“If I’d ever thought for one second this could happen I would have never asked… fuck!”

“Don’t act like this is something you didn’t think couldn’t happen, Donovan. It’s Biology 101. I screwed up. It wasn’t on purpose. Trust me, I don’t want to be tied to you.”

His laugh was bitter, harsh. “Obviously.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“God, Layla,” head back, gaze up at the stars as though his frustration, the truth should be obvious. Then Donovan glared at her. “One time… just one of me being gentle, with me not fucking you, of me loving you, and you run scared. I know you think I’m trash. I know you think you’re better than me so I’m fucking sorry that I have sullied your perfect body with my DNA.”

His words stopped her, actually made her step back so she could watch his face, try to see the lie there, that mask of honesty she knew Donovan wasn’t capable of hiding. But it wasn’t there. He wasn’t lying, he wasn’t hiding behind sarcasm or deflecting how he felt. Layla’s shock dimmed some of that fury warming her chest and his confession, that open expression on his face stunned her enough that her tightly constructed guard slipped. “You said it didn’t mean anything to you. You said nothing had changed.”

“I fucking lied!” She closed her eyes, blocking out the wet gleam in his eyes, the surprise that softened his features when he seemed to realize it was the first time he’d been entirely honest with her.

But it didn’t take away the hurt she had felt when she had asked what that last time had meant to him. To her, it had been more than overwhelming. It had meant more than she had been willing to admit, that night in his bedroom. That night, Donovan had touched her like no one had before. He’d been open. He’d been real, and Layla had only wanted more of that from him. But she’d been so afraid to admit it to herself, that she wanted all of what Donovan could give her. Yet when she thought that he might want the same, when she asked if he had, he had disappointed her yet again. He had taken it all back. And now he was telling her he had been lying?

Would he ever stop?

She wouldn’t wait around to find out.

Layla could feel her fingertips tingle. She felt the hollow reach of her disappointment, her desperation to be away from him rise up, move her legs backward, throw her into her car without a backwards look, uncaring that he threw himself after her.

“Where are you going?” She managed to slam her door shut, to turn the ignition and shift the gear into reverse and wouldn’t look at Donovan as he slapped his hand against her window. “Layla, stop. Where are you going?”

But she didn’t know, she only knew she needed to get away from him, away from her parents, from all the craziness, and as she drove down the street, speeding, unable to catch her breath, she only managed a glance into her rearview mirror, telling herself that wasn’t Donovan running after her car. That wasn’t him screaming her name, desperate for her to take him with her.





Donovan avoided the phone calls that kept coming. His parents, Layla’s, her friends, even Ethan, who Donovan hadn’t seen in almost two years, had called to threaten his life for knocking up his baby sister.

It was a clusterfuck of bad and Donovan knew he’d never worm his way out of it. Part of him wanted to be angry. She’d stupidly forgotten to keep herself protected. But he knew it was a mistake she hadn’t made on purpose. Of course not. She didn’t even like him. Why the hell would she purposefully let him knock her up?